Where is Everybody?
by Crystar500
Summary: Lucas finds a town in the middle of nowhere, but discovers the true horrors of silence as a result... Based on a Twilight Zone episode. Imported from Pokemon Amino.
1. Part 1

The place is here, and the time is now, with the journey into the delves of insanity. Within the dark void, we shall see the promise of isolation ground it's hold within the human brain and why even silence can be a man's deepest terror.

Sinnoh region. A trainer foolishly and recklessly decides a shortcut through the forest is a rather enticing path. They need not focus their mind on the dangers of the world, for the trainer was a bold young teenager, and regarded his battle skills rather highly in case of an emergency. This young man was rather athletic, broad shoulders and a toned body to his name. His name is Lucas, we shall say.

Beyond the forest path of bold ambitions, the trail turned into one of plain dirt that cut through a wide open grassy field. The weather was rather bright and warm, the bright rays threatening to burn the young man's pale skin, while igniting him slowly through his bevy of winter clothes.

He walked down this dirt path with arrogance. He feared nothing at the moment besides fear itself. Fear did not wish to make it's presence yet.

Upon reaching the horizon in the distance, Lucas came across the industrial town of "Celestia", as a big billboard on the city outskirts labeled in bold. Puzzlement sinked in, for the name of "Celestia" was a rather unknown concept to him. His eyes drifted over to his wrist, where his Poketech sat. With his thumb, he pressed the red button beside the watch's screen a few times, wishing to bring up the map function. To his surprise, the wrist machine displayed a dreadful message of dastardly effect on the screen. "No signal - Unknown location."

Lucas was still a man of boldness, for he swiftly turned his attention to the town in front of him. The dirt road ceased to gon just around ten feet away where it transitioned into an asphalt road, gray sidewalks lining the edges. This paired with the electronic crosswalks, traffic lights, and parked cars gave the impression of a modernized town, a steep climb from the stature of other Sinnoh towns. Along with this was the empty seats of the streets gave an ominous lurking feel to the mind Lucas withheld. Lucas looked to his left, where a diner sat cheerfully under the gleaming sunlight. The sign above the entrance was of a crimson red, with the name "Jimmy's" printed upon it. The windows were glass and the door was held open by a wooden wedge beneath the frame.

Soon to be seen, the diner's interior was rather humble. A jazzy tune played from a jukebox against the wall in the back, directly across from the door. To his right were around five booths lining the walls, red in cushion color along with brown wooden tables to go with it. To the jukebox's right was a bathroom door of similar wood features. To his left was the long white counter, lined with red-cushioned bar stools. Lucas didn't seem to find it puzzling that the entire diner was barren of life whatsoever. Yet the jazz music of the jukebox continued to promote casualness as if it was the diner's happy hour. Lucas took a seat upon one of the bar stools, and looked behind the counter. A single door led to the kitchen, which seemed rather large from what he was able to see. A shelf on the wall had alcoholic beverages lined along it, a rare sight for a diner in Sinnoh. It was looking over the counter when he noticed the floor's style, a black and white chessboard style. Despite sitting down at the counter, Lucas still had yet to at least be spoken to by a cashier or waiter.

"Say, I noticed this town while coming up the road!" He called out, casually shifting about in his seat. "I was wondering what it had to offer, if anyone would be so kind to answer?" He added. Although his vainful utterings were met by an eerie silence, the jazz music still playing tauntingly about the place. The jukebox's garish and multicolored display mocked him to the core.

Lucas then sardonically called out to the silence. "Is this loud enough for you out here?" He referred to the jukebox's jazzy tune with this particular statement. "I mean, you can hear it, right?" Lucas then grinned, giving a chuckle in confusion at the silence. He rose, and climbed off the stool, strolling over to the taunting jukebox. He looked around it before grabbing the wretched machine with slight fury, dragging it away from the wall. He then reached his arm over the back of the machine, fiddling a knob when he found it on the machine's backside. The tantalizing jazz music went much lower in volume. Satisfied with the taunts reducing, the machine back against the wall.

"Kind of early for that music, isn't it?" Lucas casually shouted out. It was in vain, however, for still, silence remained prevalent.

Still puzzled in a sense, Lucas walked back to the counter and peered over, peering through the opened entrance to the kitchen. "You know, I noticed another town in the distance! What's the name of it?" He called out to the silence once more. There was no town in particular he noticed at all, for it was merely a ploy in order to coax some small talk out of the workers of this silent diner.

The frustration set in when Lucas was yet again met without a response. These disrespectful diner workers needed to see that they had a customer! What was this idiocy they expressed by not responding? How childish and immature! Lucas vaulted himself over the counter fairly easily via his athleticism, storming through the kitchen entrance.

The kitchen was a small room with humble kitchen elements. A stove sat humbly next to a stove in the corner, paired with various wood counters with kitchen tools. The knob on the stove was turned on, however, and naturally, Lucas went over to turn it off. The incompetence of these chefs was outstanding! Upon further investigation of the kitchen, Lucas came to a back door. He tried the rusty knob of the door, swinging the door to reveal the diner's small, grassy, backyard, covered in gleaming sunlight. An eerily empty backyard. "Hey! You got a customer out front! Hey! Customer here!" He shouted in vain, for there was still no answer. Lucas then turned and retrace his steps back to the diner's counter.

Lucas still showed no emotion besides puzzlement. He was still much too arrogant and stubborn of a teen to let the premise of fear or concern set in upon him. He vaulted himself back over the counter and sat himself in the same stool he had used prior. He picked up the small menu laid on the counter, reading it as he began to speak aloud once more in his puzzlement. "Hash browns. Coffee. Black coffee preferably." He looked up for a brief moment to desperately shout once more. "Hey! Got a customer out front!" Lucas then vaulted himself over the counter once more, sloppily throwing the pointless menu onto the ground. He poked his head into the kitchen. "Hash browns... Black coffee..." He mumbled to himself, I sign of one stem of sanity being snapped. He stood in front of the kitchen door, his eyes scanning the diner's empty booths and chairs with haste. Behind him, with a skin-crawling creak to make Lucas swiftly turn to notice, the door began to swing back and forth, rather slowly in it's subtle, dreadful, manner.

For the first time in the stubborn teen's trip to Celestia, we see more than puzzlement reveal itself upon his face. What is seen is not concern, not anger, not fear. What supplants him is irritation on his facial features, especially his eyes, which seemed to have taken a turn for the worst. The irritation is not acute on the rest of his body language, but it is there. Lucas vaulted himself over the counter once more. He checked one of the pockets of his jacket for any sort of items... A pack of mints. Crumpled, and empty, however, a useless prospect. He removed his hat to showcase his short and messy black hair, sweat accumulated from being encased under it for such a long amount of time. He stuffed the sweaty hat into his pocket before sitting down on the stool once more. He ran his fingers through his hair, in an attempt to smooth out it's unevenness. He took a long moment to let the possibility of a person answering his desperate cries to formulate.

The jukebox suddenly ceased to play it's taunting jazzy tune. The sudden cessation of noise brings the dreadful, deafening, silence of the diner to a more obvious setting. Startled, Lucas darted his vision to the jukebox in the back of the room with a turn of his head. He stared at the machine for a few moments before he looked forward again. On the shelf with the alcoholic beverages, a shelf clock sat at the end of the bottle line, faced sideways and painted a vibrant navy blue in color. Strange that this place resorted to a shelf clock rather than a wall clock. Lucas climbed back over the counter in a casual way, turning the clock so it faced forwards towards the diner seating. He checked the time afterwards. A quarter to six in the morning. Lucas turned to climb over the counter once more, but the bag upon his back grazed across the wooden shelf, knocking over the little clock. Lucas crouched down and picked up the humble clock. The glass face was broken from it's skydive off the shelf. Lucas put the oracle clock down on the counter. And with that, Lucas climbed over the counter once more and sat in his stool.

Lucas tapped his fingers upon the counter in a nervous staccato on the counter top. The silence now begins to instill nerve-racking oppression onto the teenager. In an afterthought, Lucas dug his hand into his pants pocket and pulled out some money. He astonishingly observed it in his hand a few moments before quickly searching the other pockets of his black jeans, as if he had found a gold mine. Nothing more was found. Lucas hesitantly rubbed his bare chin while staring into the blank space behind the counter. He felt the need to speak, however, and attempt to murder the silence where it stood, for the silence was soon to murder him in turn. "Cash customer here. A hungry cash customer!" He rubbed his face once more. "I got two Pokedollars and eighty-five in Pokecoins." With this statement, he gave the currency a look of thoughtfulness, with a dash of curiousness. "Two Pokedollars and eighty-five in Pokecoins, Sinnoh money." He then stopped his rant and looked off behind his back, towards the entrance in puzzling nervousness. "Sinnoh money." He mumbled, tossing the money roughly down on the counter surface as if to remind himself it was. "Sure... Sinnoh money."

The notion that he may indeed be insane came across him, but he assumed this diner in particular was simply very strange. He looked at the shattered clock on the counter once more, then to the still-swinging eerie door leading to the kitchen, then to the taunting jukebox machine in the back that was now silent, and finally back at the money he had thrown down upon the counter surface. "Well, we got this much settled - I am a resident of Sinnoh." His voice raised, as if to get the attention of someone. "There's a little question about my identity that may concern you - But I'm not even sure who I am." Lucas gave a sigh after the statement. Lucas held the money to the air. "But I've got two Pokedollars and eight-five Pokecoins - And I'm hungry! - That much is established!" In a rage, weary of the silence, he slammed both his palms on the counter viciously, causing the salt shakers and condiment bottles to rattle in response. "I've got two Pokedollars and eighty-five Pokecoins and I'm hungry!" He stopped dead at this moment, listening to... Nothing, nothing at all. He was listening to the silence that enveloped him. He began to prefer when the jazzy tune of the jukebox teased him.

Lucas followed his own path to the front door and leaned within it, looking outside. The single asphalt road went straight north, through this silent town. All without the single sign of traffic, Pokemon, people, or anything for that matter! Lucas began to rant in agony. "I'm going to wake up soon! - I'm going to awake soon, I know of it! - I wish - No, I yearn for a noise, or something to wake me up!"

Lucas laughed part of his sanity away. "A little noise please!" He yelled to the air at the top of his lungs. Not a sound in response. Another insane chuckle followed, with hysterical singing. "Yes, sir, that's my baby! No sir, don't mean maybe! Yes sir, she's my baby!" Lucas chuckled a few moments, which turned into hysterical sobbing as he turned, walking back towards one of the diner booths. He slumped within the closest one to the door.

He buried his face within his hands, letting the tears run rampant, his hands rubbing his eyes and massaging his temples, as if trying to force some type of connective link out of his fingers… some reassurance of his very existence, some knowledge of why silence could be so terrifying.

 _To be continued?_


	2. Part 2

Taunting, teasing, were the aesthetics of the restaurant that surrounded the teenage boy. What diner could be so tantalizingly pressuring in terms of it's choking silence, to the point where the boy wished to slit his own wrist, to spare himself from this terror, to give the devious controlling forces above their joy. The diner seemed innocent enough, upon further inspection by Lucas.

The coffee urn, humble and stood still.

The menus, humble and stood still.

Salt and pepper shakers, humble and stood still.

Commonplace of silence, all to a choking, taunting, stand-still.

The scene is terribly normal for a place that adjuncts to so much more than a normal diner. This was when Lucas could bear no more, for he rose to his feet and made his exit. In vain somewhat, Lucas ran his hand over the "Open" sign hanging on the diner's front door, the door still held open with a doorstopper for any other unlucky soul to experience what Lucas had. Lucas simply turned the sign over, so it was able to read "Closed", then moved on.

The signs of early morning still remained prevalent above in the sky. What Lucas looked upon by standing out front of the diner was the silent, unnervingly dormant surrounding area. Ah, but let me explain of this area! He was in the main drag of this small town, flanked by stores, a courthouse, a post office, general buildings of the sort. And yet, all of these buildings existed without the single instance of motion or noise whatsoever, overwhelmingly and painstakingly suffocating for Lucas to suffer. It was as if this place was bustling with vibrant life, and was suddenly stripped of the people performing it.

Devoid of any kind of movement whatsoever. Absolutely quiet. Where is everybody?

Lucas stopped his walking, startled by the sudden sound of wind chimes somewhere in the area. Ominous, skin-curling, unnerving wind chimes. Lucas whirled himself around and looked in the sound's direction.

Another sound interrupted him. The booming, lurching, sound of a looming, sulking, church bell of brass sounding in the distance. Lucas turned swiftly and looked towards the booming sound of the bell, shading his eyes to look for this very church. However, he stopped abruptly, staring at something across the street.

Across the street, a tiny clothing store sat beside an alley where a large delivery truck was parked. In the cab, the passenger seat - a human figure could be seen. A darkened figure of sorts, but a figure nonetheless. A shadow might've been better than nothing at all, non? Lucas looks downward in exasperation as he walks to the curb, craning his neck somewhat to look over the truck.

"Hey, miss? Miss?" He asked politely, for the figure seemed to be feminine. He makes a gesture that is part of a wave, the other part reassurance. He stood away from the truck at the curb. "Over here, miss. Look, I was wondering if you could do me a favor. I don't want you to think I'm crazy or anything - Ha, preposterous! I mean, it's nothing like that. It's just that -" Here, Lucas can be seen grinning, a grin that remained victim to his own loss of sanity. "I don't seem to remember who I am. It's the craziest thing. I've looked all around and I haven't seen anyone. I guess it's just early or something. Literally, there hasn't been a soul." Now, still looking downward, he took steps towards the cab of the truck, still puzzled to a point. He smiled once again. "You know, it's a real oddball thing but… Well, I was walking through the forest this morning…"

Lucas stopped and hesitated a few moments, rubbing his jaw in thought. "I didn't exactly walk through a forest. I just sort of found myself walking. I don't remember waking up this morning either… Just walking in this void." Lucas held a finger up, for he had just formulated an idea after his deep thought. "Amnesia, that's what they call it, isn't it? Amensia?" Lucas dragged out the 'e'. "Well that must be what I got. I just don't remember a thing… I can't even find anybody to ask…"

Lucas began to trek across the street. As he walked, he continued his rant. "You're the first person I've seen. Look, I really don't want you to be frightened or anything, but I was just really wondering if you could point me in the direction of the doctor or something." Then, Lucas stopped dead in his tracks. He was about ten feet away from the truck.

Lucas turned to look at the cab. This woman was taunting him as well! Such a town of nonsense he had come across! The female figure was outlined in the passenger seat, but was very much in the shadows of the alleyway. Lucas walked to the cab once again rather quickly, a bit of rage fueling his walk. Still, once close, the cab was very dark, with only a figure visible through the window. Lucas narrowed his eyes and grit his teeth, vaulting open the cab door in a rage.

Nothingness. Nothing but the leather seat sat there to tease Lucas and chip away at what was left of his sanity. The figure, was nothing more than an illusion, perhaps a hallucination. A spirit even, perhaps.

Lucas, much more pale than before, very gently shut the cab door. He rolled his tongue in his cheek, in thought once more. He slowly backed away to see the lettering along the side of the truck. Nothing there either, however, for it was a solid white. Lucas leaned against the cab door again and rubbed his forehead with a sigh. "I'm very sorry, Madame. I can assure you that at no time did I mean to be so upsetting. As a matter of fact I've always liked the quiet types." Lucas then chuckled another piece of sanity away. Lucas looked at the cab door once more for a pensive moment, with the thought remaining unspoken that he yearned that the cab held a creature that was capable of being talked to. He turned away and walked back across the street.

He spent about ten minutes walking through different sections of various streets in this silent town. This trek into nothingness ended abruptly, when something caught his eye. A simple gas station that was in place here to supply any of the cars, if they were ever to populate the streets. Out in front was a glass-enclosed public phone booth. Lucas walks towards the gas station and enters the phone booth. Without thinking, he quickly put the phone to his ear. "Look, I was wondering if anyone could tell me -"

"Oh." Lucas slapped his forehead, grinned, and shook his head. He fished in his pocket for a coin, depositing it into the phone. He then dialed the operator, which was labeled as "0" in a small chart of common service numbers under the keypad. He listened to the dial tone that came on and off with dull regularity. He wrapped the steel wire around his wrist and jiggled it impatiently.

"Operator. Operator? Will you listen to me?" He pounds on the phone with his fist before indiscriminately dialing a bunch of numbers. He was about to throw down the phone in disgust when suddenly at the other end of the line, he hears a dial tone ringing. He very slowly and very gratefully picks up the phone now, where he hears a voice filtered mechanically at the other end.

"This is the special Operator." The voice was robotic, filtered that way purposely. The voice was very slow in it's manner of speech, a looming sense of inhumanity. "The number you have reached is not a working number. Please make sure you have the right number and are dialing it correctly."

Lucas began to shout into the phone. "Is everybody asleep over there? What kind of operation do you people run?"

The female voice of the Operator repeated once more. "...This is the special Operator. The number you have reached is not a working number. Please make sure you have the right number and are dialing it correctly." Lucas listened to it all again in excitement, gripping the phone tight, excited beyond words that he has found another living being. He was about to speak to this woman, when he heard her voice pipe up again.

"This is a recording."

Tenseness was now shown upon the expression Lucas showed on his face.

"This is the special Operator. The number you have reached is not a working number. Please make sure you have the right number and are dialing it correctly." It repeated once more.

"A recording?" Lucas pounds on the receiver hook and shouts. "Operator! Look, all I want to know is where I am! I just want to know what this place is!" He then slowly let the receiver loose, making it hang down from the phone box. Lucas' hand touches and then grasps a telephone book that sat atop the phone, a thin one that he looked at hungrily.

The front cover is labeled "Celestia". He ripped open the front cover, and looked on the first page. "A. Abel. Ackerman. Adams. Allenby. Arnold. Alright boys, where are you?" A bit more edginess was in Lucas' tone now. "Where do you all live? Just in this book?" He ripped open the next page. "Baker. Beldon. Billman. Botsford. Well, look, gang - Who's watching the store?" Lucas then turned his head to look across the street, as if an idea popped in his head, some sort of realization. "Who's watching any of the stores?"

Lucas loosens his grip on the phone book now, letting it fall to the floor. He stood there motionless for a moment, pale as ever, deep in thought. Then he reaches for the phone booth's door handle, turns it, and pushes. Nothing happens, the door not budging. He tries once more to no avail. The door remains locked, taunting him. Frustrated, he thrust his weight against the door. Yet, the door does not yield any result. It is more than irritation on his face now, with genuine concern now setting in upon him. He looks around his puzzling, tantalizing, prison. "Alright… Who's the trickster? Who locked the door?" He pushed the handle again. "What a gag that is."

Lucas laughed softly, shaking his head. "Trapped in a phone booth! Trapped in a glass phone booth, like a pet Goldeen!" He then suddenly cried out. "Well, here I am! You got me! Everybody come see! I'm right here on display!" It is now that he started to bang on the glass frantically. "How about a hand, somebody? A little assistance - how about it? This is an absolutely hysterical town, and I'm growing very fond of it, but I'd appreciate it if - "

Lucas cut himself off. He stares at something through the glass, his hands and forehead pressed against the glass to peer out. Half-smoked and still burning, lying just outside the booth, a cigar rested on the sidewalk. For the very first time, there is a look of incipient fear on Lucas' face. "Look. Whoever's out there. This isn't funny anymore. I don't like this prank. It's getting dull." He said, his eyes wandering around again at his glass prison. "Look, I know I can be heard! I know… I know somebody's watching me."

With this statement, Lucas realizes immediately that he has given away his voice to fear. He has labeled aloud what is truly bothering him. Simply a sense of being watched, perhaps, being watched in a case such as this like an aquarium, with the notion of silence slowly creeping down to fill his tank and suffocate him until death.


	3. Part 3

Tyranny it is! To be pressurized as if one was being watched, scouted over like the distasteful scoundrels that inhabit every dark alley of this forsaken world! A sense of being watched was what Lucas was burdened with in this moment. A horrendous sense of rage and panic washed over the young man, when he picked up the phone book on the floor and thrust it at the door with his strength. He shielded his face with his arm as the glass at the top of the door shattered into pieces. Lucas then sticks his hand through, opens the door from the outside, then kicks it open with his foot. The door spring open and comes halfway off it's hinges. He then looks down at his hand. It's cut - a rivulet of blood runs down his fingers. He feels in his coat pocket for his hat, takes it and wraps it around the hand as much as possible. He squeezes it a few times, pressuring it. Strange indeed, for Lucas did not feel the sting of it. Nothing whatsoever. There were far greater conflicts at bay, though.

He started down the street once again, still with the foreboding sense of loneliness and emptiness. A bizarre quality indeed, for a town without people, Pokemon, or even a sound besides his own.

Some force beyond Lucas' control caused him to swiftly look upwards upon reaching the base of a building to his right. A large sign above read "Police Station". Intrigued, Lucas walked up the front steps of concrete and made his way into the building.

The interior of the police station at first glance consisted of a waiting room, small in size, and then an open, barred door which leads to a corridor lined with cells. Lucas entered through this door and wandered around. There is a police sergeant's desk, files, pictures of wanted men on the wall. Not sloppy, but the premise of hectic organization remained prevalent. A teletype machine hums in the corner. Lucas took a look at it. The light over it is on, but nothing is being written. He whirls around and stares toward the sergeant's desk, goes behind it, picks up the microphone that sat upon it, fingers it a moment, before speaking into it.

Lucas cleared his throat, and attempted to take on a deep, professional, tone. "Calling all units. Calling all units. Unknown man walking around the police station. Suspicious looking character. Probably wanted by the government - "

Lucas stopped a moment, looked at the mic, and chuckled softly for a moment before an abrupt stop. His smile fades away. He flings the microphone away from him and slowly looks around the room once more. "I wish I could shake that feeling…" He looked around again. "That crazy feeling of being watched… listened to…" He stares toward the cell doors, then begins to walk slowly toward them.

He stands in the middle of the next room, looking from empty cell to empty cell. Then he whirls around at a bubbling sound that startled the dense air. There, on a hot plate, is a pot of coffee perking. Behind him, the barred door leading to the waiting room begins to close. Lucas' eyes run wild, as if he subconsciously realizes he's in danger. He whirls around to see the cell door closing, and then, with a shout, throws himself against it, pushing it away before it locks. He hung onto it now, breathing deeply.

"All right, time to wake up! Time to wake up now!" His insanity exclaimed to the world. He spun around, looking around in a panic. His facial expression was distorted out of terror. "Time to wake up!" He shouted at the top of his lungs. He stumbles through the waiting room and then back onto the street.

And yet, in deathly silence, Lucas stood in silence in the middle of the empty street. Everything quiet.

Sagacious stores, a deadly quiet.

Tumultuous town, a deadly quiet.

Envious emptiness, a deadly quiet.

Pressurizing panic, a deadly quiet.

And then he screamed, "Where is everybody? Where is everybody?!"


	4. Part 4

The sun beat down relentlessly high to form a hot afternoon in the silent town. Shimmering it in a sea of heatwaves. Our friend Lucas sits on a curb, staring dully and numbly across at nothing in particular, spaced out to a terrible level. The church steeple clock in the distance sounds two. He looks up, listens to it, but is no longer startled by it as he was before. He simply lets the booming sound of the chimes play along the edges of his consciousness without really being aware of them. Now he arose, and walks slowly, methodically, without much apparent purpose in his movements across the street. He looks up to see a sign reading "Mart". He enters this store in particular, curious to see what it had to offer.

It is light-hearted and cheerful inside, a light contrast to the darkened man who had entered. On the left hand side is the soda bar with a grand mirror behind it, full of stickers advertising various concoctions - soft drinks, ice cream, things of that sort. Lucas, as he enters, pauses by the candy counter. He looks through the glass for a long moment, then reaches behind and takes out a couple of candy bars. He unwraps one, brings it to his mouth, consuming it rather casually before wrapping it back up. He reached over and pulled out the box he took it from. "Two for just one Pokedollar. Now that's more like it. I always like cheap candy." He then smiled and turned, speaking to nobody. "How about you guys - any of you want a candy bar?"

The store had a short set of empty booths, perhaps for kids to trade cards with one another after school while downing a shake or two. Across from the booths, the store had a counter where people could sit at stools and order homemade cooking. Lucas got up on one of these stools with a grunt, settling within it.

"I'll take a chocolate soda with chocolate ice cream!" He starts to laugh, but the laugh is checked almost immediately as he sees his reflection in the mirror behind the counter. His fingers run exploringly across his face, taking in the darkened expression, hollowness beneath his eyes, the strange, haunted, frightened look that is obviously there. He looks at himself again for a long moment.

"You'll forgive me, old pal, but I don't recollect the name. The fact seems vaguely familiar… but it's the name that escapes me." He paused. "I'll tell you what my problem is. I'm in the middle of a nightmare that I can't wake up from." He jabs a finger, pointing at the reflection. "You're part of it. You and the ice cream and the candy bars. That little shadow in the truck. This whole forsaken town, wherever it is." Another pause.

"Whatever it is. I just remembered something. A book said it. You remember that book, old buddy? I forget the name. It's what he said to a Haunter. He said, "You may be an undigested bit of meat, a blot of tyranny, a crumb of despair, a fragment of reality undone. There's more of grave than of grace about you." You see? That's what you all are. You're what I dreamed last night. You must be. But now I'd like to wake up. I've had it… I'd like to wake up now. And if I can't wake upp, at least I'd like… I'd like to find somebody to talk to."

He rises now and climbs behind the counter. He starts to fix himself a chocolate soda, experimenting with some of the cupboards until he finds the right ingredients - the ice cream, the milk, and so forth. Then he mixes himself a soda, tall, frosty, and delicious. He starts to sip it with a straw as he walks casually around the drugstore. He stops by a poster of a high school football schedule. It reads, "Celestia High School, 2008 Schedule." A list of dates and teams to be played appears below.

Lucas takes it in one hand and reads it as he sips his soda. But the normality of it suddenly points out the incongruity of what he's living through at the moment. He sets the poster down back on the counter, shaking his head, staring at it. "I must be a very imaginative guy. Very imaginative. Nobody in the whole world can have a dream as… as complete as mine. Right down to the last detail." He tapped the poster. "Right down to the last detail!"

He turns, stares across at a big magazine rack near the front window of the store. He crosses over to it, stares down at some of the magazines, the kneels down, interested. He begins to trace the dates on each one of the magazines. The majority of them say October 2008 and his mouth forms that phrase - "October 2008."

Then he bites his lips, shakes his head again, rises, looks down at the group of comic books, each with a lurid title having to do with horror themes, spook themes, things of the sort. "The Tell-Tale Heart of the Old Chateau" or perhaps even "The Honchkrow", although "Lovely Valerie" seemed interesting as well. Then he suddenly stops and looks down at one, the cover of which is peeping out from behind the others, and whose title is clearly enticing. He reaches down and pulls it out just a few inches farther so that he can read the entire title. The title was, "The Last Man of Sinnoh".

He picks it up and stares at the cover, then flings it down on the floor. He turns rapidly away and heads back to the counter where he puts the soda down. He is suddenly gripped by another spasm of utter loneliness that it forces him out onto the street once more.

As he gets out on the street he suddenly shouts, shrilly, illogically. "Hey! Hey, anybody! Anybody hear me? Anybody hear me? Anybody hear me?"

He almost lurches to the other side of the street where he buries his face against the window of a building. When his goes back he sees the letters of "Celestia Post Office" and he starts to laugh again. "Any mail for me? Anybody write me a letter? I don't know what my name is, but maybe you can tell me in there, huh? Will you tell me what my name is?"

He pounds his fist harshly against the glass, and then suddenly has to suffocate a sorrowing sob, as he begins to give in to the loneliness - To the unknown and to the gnawing, taunting, fear that envelops him from head to toe. Then he turns away from the window, struggling for composure. He stares across the street once again for some kind of salvation. No salvation was found, and the only thing that caught his eyes was a sign reading "City Bank".

Lucas gathered himself and walked across the street, into the bank, tears still streaming slowly down his cheek.

Inside the bank, Lucas walks past all of the teller's cages. He stops at the end of the line, pressing his face against the bars. Behind the bars, he could see rows after rows of stacked bills. "I'd like to borrow about eight hundred thousand Pokedollars. How about it?" Then he nods and grins. "Thanks. I think that's generous of you. I think that's really generous."

He pulls the bars up, reaches in and takes two packages of money. Then, he begins to retrace his steps towards the front door. He's about to leave when he looks towards the first teller's window. Several Pokecoins scattered the top of the counter. He takes some of the bills he's holding and crams them into the interior pocket of his coat. "Gotta make room for some silver!"

He goes behind the teller's window and starts to cram rolls of coins into his pockets. Then suddenly his eyes look wild again as he looks up, his eyes scanning the room. And again, without any sense of logic, the same mixture of wisdom and paranoia. "Somebody watching me?" He goes out in front of the teller's cage again and looks around. "Somebody watching me?" He repeats. He looks up toward the ceiling and around as if expecting to see someone.

"Crazy feeling. Crazy, insane feeling. Like… Like I knew someone was watching me." And then his eyes narrow again in an awareness of danger. "Watching me… and trying to button me up someplace. Trying to trap me." He looks around hastily again.

Lucas began to run toward the door. He trips over some sort of a leer close to the teller's cage. A large red alarm bell on the wall began to screech out a ring moments after. Lucas climbed up and sped to the front door and whirled around as the loud, dissonant clanging pierces the silence - penetrating his soul. He then turned and tried the front door again. Locked. In a panic, his eyes dart around the bank interior - To the bell, the teller's cage, the locked door, to his hand that was littered with crimson dried droplets of blood.

He raced towards the alarm on the wall. He grabs the wires that extended from it and roughly yanks on them, pulling them apart. The bell ceases to ring, and halts to it's silent state once more. Lucas then turned and stared at the front door. The door was now ajar.

Lucas patted the pockets of his coat, to make sure the coins and bills were there, cramming them deeper into his pockets. He walks towards the open door, then out onto the street again, leaving a trail of sanity behind him. He sits down on the curb, and unwraps the bloodied hat that was around his hand and wipes his face with it, removing sweat from his brow. He then reached into his pocket and took out a crumpled fistful of bills. He picked one out, grinning at it for a brief moment. He held it out to look at the paper texture of it in the light.

"Here's something I've always wanted to do. Always wanted to do this…" Lucas said, his hand shaking nervously while holding the bill out a few inches from his face. He held it closer, then carefully put his strength into it, slowly tearing the bill down the middle, dropping the pieces and letting them flutter away. Lucas watched the soft breeze through the town take it down the street, and as he does so, his face looks exhausted, hopeless.

Lucas let his head hang low. "Big deal… So what? Big deal…" And yet, the tears still ran to his eyes like lightning, pouring outwards in a torrential storm.


	5. Part 5

Town Square. Night had fallen upon the forsaken town. A street lamp flickered on near the curb. The insane man known as Lucas sat on a simple wooden park bench looking up toward the light. Then he turns to look toward the street flanking the square. The lights have gone on in front of all the stores and in the windows of the town. What caught Lucas' eyes in particular was the theater marquee, as the lights flickered on around it. He walks across the street, stopping by the ticket window. He felt light-headed, almost dreamlike, when he spoke on it.

"I'd like one tick-"

Then he stops, shaking his head. He closed his eyes and sighed, realizing at how ridiculous this was. He is about to go in when he suddenly stops and stares at a poster advertising the current movie showing. The poster showed a young trainer holding a PokeBall up, advertising the movie. Lucas suddenly felt along his own outfit and gradually makes the connection that the uniform of the trainer in the picture was similar to that which he wears, although the colors were different. The trainer in the ad seemed to prefer red and black.

"Pokemon trainer. Pokemon trainer." Then he whirls around, looking up toward the sky. "Pokemon trainer. I'm a Pokemon trainer." He once again looks down at his outfit. Excitement filled his mind for a brief moment when he was reminded of his belt. He pushed the folds of his coat out of the way and checked his belt, excitement melting away. Empty. His Pokemon were gone. Yet, the reminder of who he was, was very welcome. "Pokemon trainer. I'm a Pokemon trainer."

Lucas walks from the outside of the theater, through the lobby, and on into the interior. Inside, he shouted aloud. "Hey, everybody! I'm a Pokemon trainer! I remember that much. I'm a Pokemon trainer! Does anybody hear me? I'm in the air force!" And then once again, he rubs his eyes, running a hand wildly across his face before swiftly surveying the theater.

Lucas later entered one of the theaters. There are enough lights on to cast a soft orange glow through the room. He looks around at the absolute, vast emptiness of the place. Then he sits down in one of the seats, taps his fingers on the armrest and looks up at the big white screen with nothing on it. He looks down at the floor again and then settles down in the chair, his eyes closed, and he starts to succumb to the fatigue that sweeps over him.

"Pokemon trainer. What does that mean? Was there a bomb or something that dropped on this town? Is that what happened? That must have been it, a bomb. But if there was a bomb -" He looks around the empty theater now. "It would have destroyed everything. And nothing is destroyed."

Lucas is hastily made aware of the lights above lowering. He starts and his eyes open wide in time to see the last of the lights go down. A long beam of white light shines from the projection booth and suddenly on the screen appears a big introductory title, "Cartoon Pikachu", with appropriate march music as a military dressed Pikachu came onto the screen. Lucas leaps to his feet, looks from the projection booth down to the screen. He crazily starts to run down the aisle, shouting. "Hey! Hey, somebody up there?"

He stops in front of the projectionist's light - causing a nightmarish pictured version of the cartoon on the screen, partially showing on his face and body as he screams. "Hey, somebody up there? Who's running the pictures? Can you see me? Can you see me up there? Hey!"

Then he races back up the aisle, arriving at the rear of the theater. He looks wildly around, then he sees a door with a glass window, steps visible on the other side. Lucas raced up the stairs with reckless abandon all the way up to the projection booth. He burst inside the projection booth, swinging the door open roughly. The picture is running from one of the two projectors, but the room is absolutely empty to it's core. Lucas races over to the machine, bending down to peer at it as the film goes through. He takes in the sound of the cartoon music and voices. It was becoming too much for him. He throws himself against the wall with a bang, peering out of the small, circular hole that the picture shoots through. He looked out at the vast, empty, theater.

Disheartened, he turns away, and walks out the door, stumbling down the steps as if all his energy had been drained. His face had turned pale now. Upon returning to the lobby, he stopped for a moment and looked across it. He spotted a popcorn machine behind a counter in the corner. The machine was humbly working to make popcorn, turned on by someone… or something. Lucas closes his eyes, shaking his head in disgust, his eyes somewhat teary again. He then opened them slowly and looked directly at one of the casual lobby mirrors on the wall. His eyes go wide upon looking at the mirror.

Lucas rushed into the mirror, smashing his face and hands against it before recoiling from the reflection. He backed off a few feet, and then looked at the mirror directly across it. Who thought it'd be a good idea to line the lobby walls with mirrors? The combination throws off endless reflections that drove Lucas' sanity to infinity. He looks from left to right, staring at the several reflections of himself who ambush him in his every movement. Then he stops and looks across at the refreshment stand where the popcorn continues to pop in the big machine. This, too, is far more than he is able to stand anymore. His face scrunches like a child about to cry, and then he shouts. "Oh my Arceus. On my dear Arceus!" And then, he stumbles through the lobby, back onto the street.

He stumbles down the street aimlessly now, intent only on moving, not finding anything. His footsteps start to drag and finally he stops, sits down on the curb, burying his face in his hand, rubbing his eyes. Then he looks up once again to find himself looking through the store window, the same store that he had made himself a soda in. The magazine that he had briefly read lies on the floor face up, with the store's front door wide open.

The title of the magazine slaps him across the face. "The Last Man of Sinnoh." He rises slowly, backing away from the window, shaking his head in disbelief. He turns and races across the street. Suddenly, then, he stops abruptly as the light on the corner changes to red and he instinctively comes to a halt. And then he stops dead, realizing once again the ridiculousness of it. He begins to laugh - the laughter becomes convulsive, insane. All the way across the street he continues it.

Lucas went on a rampant stroll through the stores he's been introduced to. As he goes by every one, a sound emanates from it, a sound way out of proportion to what it actually should be, and taunting him to his very soul.

When he passes the pool hall, we hear the booming bowling alley sound echoing from it.

When he passes the theater, there comes symphony of music and laughter.

When he passes the mart, there is a fizzling, bubbling, sound of drinks.

When he passes the record store, the dissonant, blaring sound of music is heard.

And soon, each noise joins in a mumbled, taunting, mind-numbing, massive morass of noise.

Gradually the very dimension of it so frightens and shocks Lucas that he begins to back away from each store as he passes - as if being assaulted on all sides. He stumbles against a street post, whirls around, amidst his fright, and then suddenly, desperately, throws his arms around it, buries his face against it - Letting the tears flow. "Won't somebody help me? Won't somebody please help me?"

Then his sobs subside and he stand there, breathing deeply, gasping for air. His eyes slowly open. Sweat makes his features stands out. He looks vexed, distraught, close to breaking. The noise somehow, for no apparent reason, suddenly ceases to exist. And yet again, there's a dreadful, deep, deadly, all-pervading silence again. Lucas' eyes travel up the post, staring up toward the sky. He squints against the full moon that was now out. "Who's watching me? Who's looking at me?" He screamed. "Who's looking at me?" He looks down toward the street.

He then moves to the middle of the road again, still looking up toward the sky, and then as if suddenly seeing an enemy, begins to sprint. Lucas had picked out one store in particular, which he backed into, trying to get inside. He reached for the door and missed, desperately slamming his face against the front pane. Lucas entered the store and looked around a moment before his eyes went wide, beginning to scream.

It was a giant eye he had screamed at. Not of a monster or any living being, no. The store he had backed into was an eyeglasses store. An optometrist sign within the store had frightened Lucas with it's gigantic eyeball logo. Lucas hadn't been aware, and had assumed it was a hallucination of his mind. He had bolted from the store right away.

Lucas made his way back towards the street post. He grabs it and latches onto it tight, before he looked down at the steel, cold, feel of something his hand grazed across. A button, that he now examined. The button was for the useless crosswalk, with a label stating, "Push to Turn Green". Lucas then looked toward the crosswalk lights. In a rage, and with his good hand, Lucas slammed the palm of his hand against the button, his palm turning into a fist as he repeats over and over again. "Somebody help me. Help me. Help me…"

The lights flickered tauntingly.

Red to green.

Green to red.

Red to green.

Over and over again.

His voice was broken, filled with sobbing, screeching, paintive, fright, despair, tyranny, insanity. "Somebody help me. Please… Please, help me -"

Sobbing still, Lucas shut his eyes tight and slid down to the ground, onto the bare concrete of the street amidst his sadness. What finally opened his eyes and ended his sobbing was the feeling of a bump against the back of his head. Slowly, he opened his eyes once more, only to be confronted with the terrible scene of a new unknown place.

He found himself within a worn down room. Dusty, littered with cobwebs, the wood interior broken in places. It was a simple hotel room upon further inspection. Lucas found himself laying on the dusty floor beside the dusted bed. The windows were boarded, leaving the room darkened, to almost a pitch-black, but light enough to the point for Lucas to look around. Astonished and terrified, Lucas felt his skin crawl. He immediately made for the door, throwing his weight against it, not bothering to use the door knob. "Come on! Get me out of here! I need to wake up! Wake me up, for Arceus sake!" And soon the door bust open into the sunlight, where Lucas stumbled out and fell flat on his face.

"Lucas?" The voice of a female said, confused as to the notion of this young man stumbling out into the open so suddenly.

Lucas' eyes shot open. He looked straight, at the tips of the pink boots that stood in front of him politely. "Dawn! Dawn!" Lucas shot to his feet and looked into his friend's eyes, gripping her shoulder tight, frightening her in the process. "Dawn - W-Where…" He held onto her still, but looked around swiftly for any sign of where he was. The bridge and the port were bustling to his left, and to his right, buildings sat humbly with people bustling about.

Dawn, although frightened, calmly spoke to him to calm him down. "Lucas? You were in there a long while. What were you doing in there?"

"In there? Where?" He questioned her immediately, his eyes still wild and crazed from his experience.

"Harbor Inn! That place behind you that you came out from? You were in there for a few days now." Dawn looked calmly into his crazed eyes. She was obviously frightened from her friend's sudden outburst, and simply pointed behind him.

Lucas, while maintaining his hold on his friend, turned to look at the abandoned hotel that sat behind him, the front door slightly off it's hinges after he busted through it. "W-What -"

His friend cut him off. "How do you feel, Lucas?" She asked with concern in her tone, as she began to catch on to the cause of Lucas' dilemma.

Lucas' voice was weak, but he's much more improved now. "I feel much better now, Dawn. I'm sorry about all that…" He looked down at his hands and loosened his grip on her shoulders.

"What was it like, Lucas? Where did you think you were?" She questioned, eyeing him carefully, for she feared any further outbursts from him.

Lucas calmly rolled his tongue in his cheek for a few moments. "Some place I don't want to visit again. A town… a town without people. Without anybody."

"Any you had to get out of that town, didn't you?" She replied.

Lucas nodded with a sigh. "I sure did." He then looked her in the eye. "What was the matter with me? Just off my rocker, huh?" He chuckled.

Dawn shook her head and laughed herself. "Just a kind of nightmare, Lucas. It happens often to people who go inside that hotel. Darkrai."

And so, we see the barrier of loneliness. The palpable, desperate need of the human animal to be with his fellow human. Something that is undeniably needed for every human being, no matter how dark and sagacious their soul may be. They will always fall victim to the Lord of Terror and Fear, when he decides to grip hold of them, the being we shall know as Darkrai.


End file.
